Look Away
by LeaO'Neill
Summary: Shane helps out and old friend;Robberies keep detectives busy; Blue Flu hits Farmington
1. Default Chapter

The Shield: Look Away  
(The characters of The Shield do not belong to me. They are property of FX and their creators)  
  
It was dark and cold and raining. Vic Mackey would have  
  
rather been almost anywhere then where he was: in an  
  
alleyway dimly lit with orange mercury vapor streetlights.  
  
There was just enough fog to make visibility low and Vic's  
  
sense of danger high.  
  
Mackey had been getting ready to go to sleep, warm and  
  
dry, albeit alone, in his apartment only an hour ago. Then  
  
his cell phone rang. Now, as Mackey stood in this damp  
  
weather, feeling rain run down his neck, he cussed that  
  
damn phone and himself for answering it.  
  
He proceeded down the alleyway slowly, his gun in hand,  
  
but held low, at his thigh.  
The call had been from one of his CI's, Del Vasquez. Vic  
  
hadn't heard from Vasquez in months, so he was a little  
  
more than surprised to be hearing from him now.  
  
"What'da you want?" Vic had asked, after the caller  
  
identified himself. Vic remembered Del as a skinny little  
  
Latino with slicked back hair and a teardrop tattoo under his  
  
left eye.  
  
"There's a mess down here you might want to clean up."  
  
"Down where?"  
  
"Behind the Hombres Bar by the old warehouse."  
  
"What kind of mess?"  
  
"The kind that the police don't usually want to deal with."  
  
"Talk in complete sentences," Vic said in frustration,  
  
debating about putting his shirt back on.  
  
"There's a lady down here. One of yours. She bought  
  
some bad junk from one of the Posse kids. OD'd or  
  
something. They just tossed her out the back, left her in the  
  
alley."  
  
Vic's heart started to beat faster, his adrenaline rushing.  
  
"What'do mean 'one of mine'?"  
"A cop, ese. She's a pinche cop."  
  
Vic still wasn't sure what he was getting into when he  
  
drove down to the alley behind the Mexican bar called the  
  
Hombres. He didn't know if it was a setup or some kind of a sting gone bad. At least not until he found her.  
  
Sandwiched between the back of the bar and an  
  
abandoned warehouse was a pile of collapsed boxes and  
  
other trash near a dumpster. There, lying like so much  
  
garbage was a woman's body. From the angle, Vic couldn't  
  
tell if she was dead or alive.  
  
He looked around cautiously. There was no one else around as far as he could tell. He went to the body.  
  
He wiped back the soaking wet blond hair from the face.  
  
"Shit," he said, checking for a pulse. There was one but it was thready.  
He holstered his weapon. He needed both hands to pick her up.  
  
"Goddammit Stef," he cursed as he carried her limp body back to his truck.  
  
Vic didn't drive to a hospital. He was tempted though.  
  
He'd had enough. He couldn't protect her if she kept this  
  
up. And it wasn't his responsibility.  
  
He didn't go back to his apartment either. He knew a  
  
motel that wouldn't ask any questions. He paid cash for  
  
three nights through a dirty bulletproof window to a clerk  
  
who looked like a fugitive himself.  
  
Vic carried the woman's body inside, glad just to be out of  
  
the damn rain. He put her in the bed, again checking her  
  
pulse, then her pupils. Dilated as hell, but they responded to  
  
light. Her breathing was ok.  
  
Vic picked up the phone and called Shane. He'd had  
  
enough, he repeated to himself again. He was going to make  
  
Shane take care of this.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
He'd obliviously woken up his partner. Good. "You need to  
  
get down to the Pelican, room 33, now."  
  
"Vic? What's up?"  
  
"I've got a package that belongs to you."  
  
"What-?"  
  
"Just do it Shane!"  
**************************************  
  
Earlier that week.....  
Vic Mackey didn't like getting summoned to Captain  
  
Acevedra's office. In fact, he got downright pissed about it  
  
after awhile.  
  
He entered without knocking. "I heard you wanted to see me?"  
  
Acevedra looked up from what he was doing, not happy about the abrupt disturbance.  
  
"I did. What's up with your team?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, you don't have a team half the time. Shane's been gone more than he's been here. What's going on?"  
  
Vic shrugged. "He needed some time off."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Another shrug. "Personal reasons."  
  
"Well his personal reasons better clear up quick. He's burning up leave time and causing a shortage in the department. He's either on your team or off. Can you pass that along to him?"  
  
"If I should happen to see him."  
  
"And if you happen to see him, let him know that two more call ins and the rest will be without pay. And then he can take a nice long vacation, without pay, for the rest of the week."  
Vic rolled his tongue around in his mouth. He had to keep from saying something he might regret later. "Yeah, I'll give him the message."  
  
"And if you've got any cases on hold, close them. We need statistics or this department will be a fond memory for all of us," he said without feeling.  
  
Vic just nodded. He turned and left.  
  
He went back to the Strike Team "clubhouse". Curtis "Lemonhead" Lemansky was the only one there, finishing up some paperwork.  
  
"Where's Ronnie?"  
  
"Getting lunch boss," Lem answered.  
  
"Do you know what's going on with Shane?"  
  
The younger man shrugged. "Not really."  
  
"Acevedra's about to have his ass. If you know, you better tell me before I go over there and mow it myself."  
  
Lem sighed. "It's a woman."  
  
Vic rolled his eyes. "It's always a woman. What woman?"  
  
Lem shrugged again. "Some chic from Vice. Stefanie, something."  
  
"Stefanie Knight?"  
  
Lem nodded. "Yeah. That's her."  
  
Vic shook his head with disgust. "Perfect. That's just perfect," he said flatly.  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"Have you read the paper lately?"  
  
"Mostly the sports section," he shrugged innocently.  
  
"Anything about Vice cops who got suspended?"  
  
"Oh shit!" Lem said with realization. "She's one of the ones they popped on suspicion?"  
  
Vic nodded. "That's great. We've got brass practically sleeping with us at night, looking at everything we do trying to find some dirt and Shane's balling the Hoover." He grabbed his jacket. "I better get over there."  
  
"You want me to go?" Lem asked.  
  
"No. You and Ronnie drum up some business. Acevedra wants closed cases on his desk ASAP."  
  
"Okay, we'll hit the street."  
  
Vic pulled up in Shane's driveway. He saw that all the window shades were down. Shane's truck was in the driveway. He walked up to the porch. Bosco was lying by the door and greeted Vic with a wag of the tail.  
  
Vic banged on the door. When there was no immediate  
  
response, he yelled. "Shane, it's Vic. Open up!"  
  
In another minute, Shane came to the door, opening it. Vic could see the house was pretty dark.  
  
"Having a Halloween party and you didn't invite me?"  
  
"I've been sick."  
  
Vic pushed his way inside. "Don't bullshit me Shane. Where is she?"  
  
Shane folded his arms. "Who told you? Lem?"  
  
"Doesn't matter. What does matter is that we're practically under the microscope and you're holed up in here with a suspected felon."  
  
"She's an old friend Vic."  
  
"I'll bet. Where is she?"  
  
"Sleeping."  
  
"You trying to get her clean all by yourself?"  
  
Shane knew there was no use trying to deny anything to Vic. "Look, she's had some problems. But that vice report set her up."  
  
"Shane, she's on suspension for suspicion of illegal narcotics trafficking. What am I not getting here?"  
  
"It was a set up. She's never pushed anything."  
  
"Coke? Heroine? Meth? What?"  
  
Shane shook his head. "No way. She doesn't mess with that. She got shot a couple of years ago. She had a lot of pain."  
  
"Prescription narcotics?"  
  
Shane nodded. "It's mostly legal stuff. Good doctor, you know?"  
  
"Mostly ? What does that mean?"  
  
"It means she'd gotten a few unscheduled refills."  
  
"Jesus Shane, she's buying that crap off the street? What, she buys it then busts the jerk selling it?"  
  
"Vic, dammit, she's got a problem, okay?"  
  
"No, Shane! It's not okay! If Acevedra finds out your tied to her, he's gonna reopen any old wounds he can. We don't need that kind of heat!"  
  
"What' d you want me to do? Just hang her out to dry? Let her twist in the wind cause it don't 'look good' to be seen with her? What if it was me? Is that what you would do?"  
  
Vic sighed. It was obvious he wasn't going to get through.  
  
"Look, I came over cause Acevedra's going to suspend you if you have another call in."  
  
"Screw Acevedra!"  
  
"Shane, I need you on the team. Think about this."  
  
Shane paced his living room. "Fine, I'll be in tomorrow."  
  
"And Knight?"  
  
"I'm not turning on her. They don't have any hard evidence. Just one cop saying she's dirty. And her partner who wants to take her down with him."  
  
Vic ran a hand over his head. He tried to think how he could use this to their advantage, rather than against it.  
  
'You have any coffee in this joint?"  
  
Shane nodded. "In the kitchen."  
  
They walked into the kitchen; Vic noticed that the house was unusually clean. In fact, it was spotless. Shane poured coffee for both of them.  
  
"How's she doing? How long's it been since she's used?"  
  
"Three days. She's over the worst of it, I think."  
  
"Can she prove anything on her partner, Jackson?"  
  
Shane nodded. "He's been using a bar to launder his money, the Torro Rio. He's been cleaning the cash for about two years. The owner, Freddy Marcos, gets ten percent of the take."  
  
"Marcos keep records?"  
  
"Stevie says he's got good ones. He knew that if Jackson went down they'd take him too. When the shit started to hit the fan, he booked it. But she was able to get into his computer. The information he'd transferred onto disks was still backed up on the hard drive and she hacked into it. She made a copy then toasted the computer."  
  
"So why isn't she in IA with the disk?"  
  
"Jackson knows she has the disk. He took out and insurance policy. He's got pictures of her buying from her supplier."  
  
"So it's a Mexican standoff? No disk, no pictures and all Internal Affairs has is one cop's word against another, unless Marcos turns up."  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"And her urine isn't dirty cause it's all legal and prescribed?"  
  
Shane nodded. "Unless they can prove she's been using dirty pills."  
  
"And her supplier? He won't roll?"  
  
Shane shook his head.  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
Shane stared into his coffee cup.  
  
"Shane?" Vic pushed, eyes intense on his partner. "Shane?" He asked again.  
  
"He had a little accident."  
  
Vic could have hit him. "What the hell does that mean? Fuck, Shane, you didn't-"  
  
"No, no. He's not dead. But he is in county with a broken jaw."  
  
Vic didn't even go into the tirade he wanted to. He'd leave it alone. For now.  
  
"Alright, we get the pictures, Stevie turns in the disk, she walks, right? And we get a bad cop so the light stays off us. Give the damn department something to talk about besides Farmington for a while. Feed them to the damn reporters."  
  
Shane nodded. It was a viable plan.  
  
Vic stood up. "So get your ass to work tomorrow, lock her up here or something. Work out the details, what ever you can get form her tonight."  
  
Vic left, still not feeling great about the mess Shane was dragging him into.  
  
***************  
It had been a rough three days. Shane was about worn out. But Stefanie, or Stevie as he called her, was a friend. More than Vic would ever know. Shane and Stevie had grown up together. It was because of him that she'd become a cop, come out to LA. He felt responsible for her now, like always. And in some ways, he felt responsible for her addiction too.  
  
When the story hit the papers, he hadn't been surprised that she'd turned up on his doorstep. She looked like hell; thin, tired, wired. She begged for his help: she wanted to be able to go to Internal Affairs. She knew as well as he did that she couldn't. Not like that. And not without help to get back the stuff Jackson had on her.  
  
So, like always, he'd taken her in. The first thing he'd done was to empty the pills from her purse and her car. Six bottles in all went down the toilet. Then he took her keys and her shoes and locked them in his truck.  
  
It wasn't long until Stevie got agitated and jumpy. After a few more hours, the pain began to hit. Shane didn't know how much of it was physical and how much of it was her psychological addiction.  
  
After 24 hours, she cried, yelled, begged and bargained, trying to get him to let her have something. But the drugs were gone and the strongest thing he had in the house was Aspirin. By 4 AM that morning, Stefanie was frantic. She paced and chain-smoked. She'd already used up a ton of energy cleaning the entire house: she did laundry, cleaned the floors, scrubbed the bathroom top to bottom, did dishes, cleaned the stove and the refrigerator. Just watching her had made Shane tired. He knew her metabolism was in chaos, not having drugs in her system to regulate it. Finally they'd both fallen into an exhausted sleep, Stevie's head in his lap on the couch.  
  
But by 11, she was begging again. "Please Shane, please! Just get me something-anything!" She was on her knees on the bed, pulling on his shirt.  
  
He stroked her long blond hair, trying to soothe her. "Let it pass. It'll pass in a few minutes."  
  
"You don't understand!" she yelled. "It hurts!" Her hands were shaking again. She stood up abruptly and started pacing again. In another minutes it was back to the bed where she curled up in a fetal position. He sat beside her.  
  
"Please," she begged in a small voice.  
  
Then in another few minutes, she sat up and put her arms around him. "Come on Shane," she whispered close to his ear. "You and me, we could have a real good time," she told him seductively. "I could give you the best blow job you ever had," she said, running her hand up his thigh. "If you'd just get me something," she added, kissing his neck.  
  
Shan removed her hand. "No can do." He stood up.  
  
Stevie was more angered by his refusal than by the rejection. She threw the empty coffee cup from the nightstand at his head. Shane ducked and it bounced off the doorframe.  
  
"You bastard!" she yelled.  
  
"I know. You'll thank me later." He picked up the cup and headed to the kitchen. He was pretty sure she wouldn't run.  
  
The windows in the bedroom were barred and he'd locked the front door with the deadbolt using the key from the inside. She'd have to get past him to get to the back door.  
  
When he returned, she was asleep again.  
  
Yeah, it had been a long three days.  
  
By the time Vic had shown up, the worst was over. Stefanie was exhausted and had been asleep sine around midnight. Shane had finally slept soundly too, next to her on the bed.  
  
Shane made some food after Vic left, knowing that when she did get up, Stevie was going to be hungry. She hadn't eaten in over three days.  
  
He thought about the old days, when he'd been as close to Stevie as a friend could be without crossing the line. They'd been kids in the same neighborhood and something about them together had just clicked. He remembered in the beginning, her parents were divorcing. Her house was in constant turmoil. She had been 7, he 9. She used to sneak out of her house when the fighting got too bad and come over to his window. She'd climb in and they'd play board games or read books. Her mother always knew where to find her when her father got his fill of whiskey and passed out. Sometimes Stevie would show up in the middle of the night, if there were a bad fight. "I'm scared Shane," she's say and he'd let her go to sleep in his bed while he slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. And now there wasn't much difference; she was scared again and he was doing what he could to protect her.  
  
He was stirring some frying potatoes and ham when she came into the kitchen. She'd showered and put on clean clothes; jeans and one of his tee shirts. Her long blond hair was still damp but combed back. The dark circles under her eyes were gone. She looked good. She looked clean.  
  
"Hey," he said.  
  
"Hey yourself." She had a slight Southern drawl that peeked out every now and then.  
  
"I haven't seen you in awhile," he told her, meaning he hadn't seen her sober, off pills, in a long time.  
  
"I haven't been me in awhile," she answered.  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
"Starved."  
  
"Well, I fixed up a good old Southern breakfast: eggs, fried potatoes and ham, grits and biscuits."  
  
"Sounds terrific."  
  
He watched her as she got a cup and poured coffee. She was still a little shaky, but not like before. He made her a plate of food.  
  
"Vic came by," he told her then. "I've got to go to work tomorrow or I'm suspended."  
  
She nodded, sitting at the table. "You don' need that." He sat across from her and they started to eat.  
  
"He's got a plan. We're gonna get that stuff from Jackson so you can go to IA and clear yourself."  
  
"Shane, I don't want you guys getting into my mess."  
  
"We're already in. We just need the rest of the info on Jackson. Vic thinks it'll be good for us if he gets busted, you know, take the spotlight off Farmington? The division isn't doing as well as it's supposed to I guess."  
  
"Jackson's not stupid. How are you going to get those pictures?"  
  
"That's what we're going to figure out."  
  
***************  
Detectives Holland "Dutch" Wagenbaugh and Claudette Wyms were the first detectives on the scene of a grocery store robbery. They'd been called because two citizens had been killed in the course of the robbery: the Korean owner and a stock boy, a black teenager.  
  
"The press ought to be having a field day with this," Claudette said, surveying the scene at the small store.  
  
The business was a "mom and pop" operation, owned and run by Wan Kasha, a Korean immigrant in his 60s. He'd kept the store going in the rough neighborhood for 16 years. He'd only recently hired DeShawn Roker, the 17- year-old black stock clerk, because of arthritis that was getting too bad to run the place alone.  
  
"It was a pretty pro job," Danny Sofer confirmed to Dutch. "They took the video tapes from the back, got the register cash and the money from the safe."  
  
Dutch nodded. The kid, Roker, had been the first to get it. He'd been on the register. When he'd seen the masked gunmen come in, he'd probably reached for the .32 under the counter and they shot him. Then Wan comes out from the back, they get him to open the register, then the safe, and then just when he thinks they're leaving, they turn and shoot him in the head. No witnesses.  
  
Claudette came back from looking at the body of the owner.  
  
"What do you think?" she asked. Dutch gave her his narration of the crime.  
  
"They're probably three strikers," he went on. "You know, already have two priors. Any more, and they're off to prison. No witnesses, no one to testify. They may be from the neighborhood, or had at least been in here before, casing the store. They knew where to go for the safe and the videotapes. They probably knew or at least suspected there was a gun under the counter."  
  
Wyms nodded in agreement.  
  
Dutch did some more surveying, looking out the front window.  
  
"Canvass the neighborhood," he told Danny. "And get the surveillance tapes from the liquor store across the street. It looks like there might be a view over here from out their front window."  
  
"Got it," Danny said, heading out.  
  
*************  
Shane got as much information as he could from Stefanie about her former partner Kevin Jackson. She knew he kept cash and her pictures in a safe in the Torro Rio's back office. He and Marcos had been partners for years in ownership of the bar. That's why it had been so easy for him to launder the money he was taking from their drug busts.  
  
"Isn't that the first place the IA investigators are going to look for money or evidence?" Shane asked.  
  
Stevie nodded. "And he'll even let them into the safe. But that's the safe where all the legit stuff is kept. Jackson has another safe, one even Marcos didn't know about I don't think. It's hidden under this statue in the office. IA will toss the place, get all the records and everything, but if he's smart, that's where he's stashed his moving cash. And I know it's where he put those pictures. He's probably waiting to give it a little time for the investigation to either pan out or for them to find something. If they do, he'll split like Marcos. So he'd got to have some traveling cash."  
  
Shane nodded. It sounded reasonable.  
  
Stefanie had made a drawing of the bar and the office and where she knew the safe to be hidden. Shane would take that and his notes to Vic in the morning. Then they'd figure out a plan.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I'm damn tired of being in this house," he said, stretching.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Lets take Bosco for a run."  
  
She gave him a hard look. "You're not afraid of being seen with me?"  
  
"It'd take a hell of a lot more to run me off."  
  
Stevie smiled. It was just like it had always been when they were kids. She didn't have any brothers or sisters, but Shane had always taken care of her. She remembered the times he'd rescued her when they were kids. When two bullies from the neighborhood tried to take her lunch one day walking to school in third grade, out of nowhere Shane had appeared and knocked both of them square in the teeth.  
  
In middle school, when drugs were moving freely, the "cool" kids teased her when she wouldn't smoke pot or try LSD; but then there was Shane, the jock, standing up for her, telling them she didn't have to. And all the sudden, the cool kids looked stupid, cause the jocks were way cooler, and here was this jock sticking up for Stevie.  
  
He'd help her with algebra and she'd help him with English. That's the only way they'd made it through high school. He'd been a senior when she was a sophomore. She remembered being so jealous when he'd asked Katie Prentiss to the senior prom; then two weeks later, for the Junior/Soph prom, Jed Grey, the gorgeous quarterback had asked her to go only to stand her up on the day of the prom. Stevie had cried her eyes out; then there was Shane, coming through the back door with a rose corsage ready to take her like he was planning it all along. (She found out much later it was due to her mom calling him that he'd shown up.)  
  
"You coming?" Shane asked.  
  
Stevie smiled. "Yeah."  
Bosco the Rottweiler was more than happy to take a run in the park. Stevie taught the pup how to fetch (except he wouldn't bring anything back) and they killed about two hours playing. Shane was happy seeing Stevie back to her old self. Ever since she'd come out to LA, he'd know she wasn't really happy. She didn't belong here. She belonged in a small town with horses and dogs and woods to hike and lakes to fish. He knew she'd come out here because of him. It left him with a hollow guilt.  
  
He kept remembering things from their childhood: how cute Stevie had been in her junior high school cheerleading outfit; how gorgeous she was the night of the Junior prom; how they'd skip school to go fishing in the creek; they'd been like brother and sister. Sometimes he'd wanted more, but he knew even then that it would have ruined their friendship. Stevie hadn't been like other girls.  
  
Watching her play with the dog, he realized she still wasn't like other girls. She was a gorgeous woman; a cop and a damn good one for a while; but this town was going to kill her. He could see that now.  
They walked back to the house.  
  
"Thanks," she told him as they walked.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For all this. For helping me."  
  
"Just cause you've been off the pills for three days doesn't mean your straight. You're gonna have to work hard. Every day for a long time Stef."  
  
She nodded. "I know." " I don't want to see you back on that shit, you know?"  
  
She nodded again. "I'm really gonna try Shane. I promise."  
Back at the house, the sun was setting and the two did their dinner dishes together, laughing and talking about old times. It was almost like being there; Shane realized he'd missed his friend.  
  
They'd begun a playful water fight and Shane threw soapsuds at Stevie. She laughed and splashed him back. He grabbed a towel and went to clean the soapy bubbles off her cheek. He wiped her face. It was then that she put her hands on his.  
  
For a moment, they stared locking onto each other's eyes. Then Stevie moved closer, standing on her toes, and pulled him in to a kiss. She had dreamt about kissing him like this for years.  
  
Once their mouths met, it was like an invisible wall had come down and Shane put his arms around her, pulling her close. Maybe it was the need to be close to someone from the past or maybe it was the realization that they were not children anymore, but they were seized by a very adult hunger.  
  
Lips locked in a passionate dance, Shane lifted her as easily as a pillow and carried her back to the bedroom. Sitting her on the bed, he looked into her beautiful blue green eyes.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked.  
  
"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she told him, then lifting her tee shirt over her head.  
  
They'd slept together many times before, but never like this. Never as lovers.  
  
************************ 


	2. Chapter Two

The Shield: Look Away Chapter Two  
  
Characters of The Shield do not belong to me. They are property of FX and their creators.  
Vic had dinner with Corrine and his kids. Cassidy had grown  
  
so much he was starting to worry she was out growing him.  
  
But he was reassured after dinner when she and Matthew  
  
allowed him to read them a story. He gave Megan her bottle  
  
and put her to sleep. He helped Matthew take a bath and  
  
Cassie pick out school clothes for the next day. It made him  
  
feel connected again.  
  
Once the kids were put to bed, he went and found Corrine  
  
in the kitchen.  
  
"Thanks for dinner," he told her.  
  
"Sure. The kids really enjoyed it."  
  
Vic got his jacket.  
  
Corrine turned and smiled a little. "I kind of enjoyed it too."  
  
Vic was too preoccupied to realize that if he'd asked, she  
  
would have let him stay. It was lonely for Corrine a lot  
  
lately. But, she guessed she should have known better then  
  
that. Vic would never realize that.  
  
"Well, see you later," he said. "Lock up." And with that he left.  
  
******************  
The next day in the Clubhouse, the Strike Team office, Vic, Shane, Lem and Ronnie planned on how to take Jackson down. Using the information Stevie had given Shane, Vic outlined the plan.  
  
"So Lem goes in, says he'd there for Marcos, that Marcos  
  
wants 25 grand to keep his mouth shut for now. He tells  
  
Jackson he knows about the safe and that there's enough  
  
cash. If Jackson balks or goes for a gun, Lem pulls his first.  
  
Gets the stuff from the safe, plus any extra cash lying  
  
around, and takes off. You'll wear a wire," Vic told Lem.  
  
"We'll be right outside. If anything goes bad, we'll come in."  
  
"It better not go bad," Shane said. "How can we explain what we're doing there?"  
  
"I'm working on that," Vic grumbled. "Come on, lets move before Acevedra comes sniffing around checking on us."  
Lemonhead looked pretty darn good outfitted in a blue suit and tie with a white shirt. He figured he looked like a drug dealer's errand boy. Of course he wore a wire and his vest under the suit.  
  
Vic and Shane sat out front in the Durango while Ronnie covered the back. They all wore headsets so they could hear what was going on inside.  
  
Lem went inside and asked to see Jackson. Jackson, who was on suspension from the force had no better place to be then the bar he owned part of. Lem was shown back into the office.  
  
"What'da you want?"  
  
Kevin Jackson was a tall black man. He looked like a cop. But there was something too slick about him. Lem didn't like him the minute he saw him.  
  
"Marcos sent me."  
  
If Jackson had been a dog, his ears would have perked and his hair would have bristled.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. He says to tell you the weather is lovely."  
  
"The bastard," Jackson muttered. "What are you here for?"  
"Marcos is running a little low on cash. He thinks that about 25 G's would keep him happy and quiet for a long time."  
  
Jackson laughed. "Right. Like I have that kind of cash, or that I'd give it to you if I did."  
  
Lem nodded toward the statue, a Buddha in the corner, where the safe was hidden.  
  
"He thought you might say that. So get it out of your private stash."  
  
Jackson did a slow burn. He knew he had two choices: pay this joker or pull the gun he wasn't supposed to be carrying. He tried to think of how he'd explain that one. A robbery? This guy was too slick not to have a plan. And probably had a backup outside. Besides, did he really need any more heat from the department?  
  
He slowly went to the hidden safe. After removing the statue, he knelt and opened the safe. He pulled several stacks of bills. Lem waited over his shoulder; hand on the butt of his gun.  
  
"I'll just take it all, including any records or papers in there," Lem said.  
  
"What?" Jackson realized now he was being shaken down.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"You asshole. I'll get you for this."  
  
"No you won't. Give it."  
  
Jackson pulled out the rest of the stacks of hundreds, ten stacks of at least fifty bills. Two manila envelops.  
  
Lem stashed the cash in the nap sack he carried and glanced into the envelopes. One he saw plainly showed the blond Shane had shown him pictures of. The other contained some kind of records.  
  
Lem put those in the bag too and cautiously back toward the door.  
  
"Have a nice day," he said with a smile, then backtracked out of the bar.  
  
Shane, in the truck, smiled. He and Vic covered Lem as he walked out and to the car he had used. No one followed.  
  
"I bet Jackson is in there ready to eat a bullet," Vic said with a smile as Lem pulled away. They followed suit.  
  
"Lets go Ronnie," Vic said into his mike. Ronnie met them at the corner and got in.  
  
"That was easy," he said.  
  
"Maybe too easy," Shane agreed. Something didn't sit right. But as long as they had Stevie's pictures.he'd dwell on it later.  
  
***************************  
Not only in the envelope were pictures of Stevie buying pills from her supplier, there was a tape that contained enough conversation between Jackson and Knight to prove what she'd been doing. Shane burned both while Stefanie watched. The business records on the other hand were detailed records of the money that Jackson had lent Marcos, large sums that a cop could never afford, and payments that showed Marcos was paying him back.  
  
"That slime ball Marcos must be glad to have Jackson off his back. I don't think he'll turn up any time soon," Shane said as he and Vic went over the records.  
  
"So with the disk that Stefanie copied and these records, Jackson's toast."  
  
"Can we get this stuff over to IA before Jackson hops a plane?" Stevie asked, clearly nervous.  
  
Vic nodded. "We'll shoot some copies by the Tribune too. Can't wait to see the headlines tomorrow."  
  
The cash Lem had taken from Jackson was another matter. A matter no one had mentioned to Stevie. While Shane and Ronnie took her to the IA building, Lem and Vic took the bag with the cash to their storage unit. Vic did some quick figuring without stopping to count the bills.  
  
"There's about 50 or 60 grand here," he said with a smile.  
  
"Nice chunk of change to add to the retirement fund," Lem agreed.  
  
They stowed the cash and locked up.  
  
"Good days work," Vic agreed.  
  
**********************  
The headlines hit the paper just like Vic had planned and IA was hunting for Jackson. The one thing that could have gone wrong had: Jackson was missing. That left a loose and dangerous end. He would know that somehow it was Stefanie who had burned him and he'd be after her. Fortunately her Captain and the members of the Internal Affairs investigation committee knew this as well. After and emergency meeting, Stefanie Knight was reinstated and a retraction made of any comments that might have implicated her.  
  
Shane was glad for her, but he was still worried.  
  
***************************  
There was another grocery store robbery. This time the storeowner was left alive, but a customer was shot.  
  
"The customer is Michael Wallis, a 44 year old machine shop worker who came in to buy a loaf of bread and some bologna for lunch," Julien reported to Dutch at the scene.  
  
"He came in just as the robbers were leaving. One of them shot him in the chest, but he was still alive when the ambulance took him. They took the video tape again as well as the cash from the two registers and the safe."  
  
"It doesn't make sense," Claudette said. "Why kill everyone last time and not this time? This time they left the owner and two sales clerks."  
  
Dutch pondered it too. She was right. It didn't make sense.  
  
"On the tape from the liquor store across from the last robbery, we have two gunmen in ski masks fleeing on foot. The owner and the clerks from the first robbery report three men; now we're back to two," Dutch pointed out. "But again no one's seen a car. Who's the third guy and why wasn't he around this time?" he thought out loud.  
  
"Maybe this time he's not around to play?"  
  
Dutch though about that, while looking around the store.  
  
Claudette nodded. "Maybe the last time there was a particular target in mind."  
  
"DeShawn Roker, maybe?"  
  
"Could be. Lets follow up on that, find out if he was into anything."  
  
*****************************  
  
Claudette dug up what she could on DeShawn Roker. It seemed that he'd been running with a bad crowd, mainly some kids with the Fourth Street Clown Posse, one of the rougher black gangs in Farmington District. That was certainly a good start. She and Dutch hauled in two of the major players for questioning. Dutch took "Sugar" Jewel while Claudette took Q.T. Brown in separate interrogation rooms.  
  
"Q.T. Brown and 'Sugar' Jewel," Dutch read their files.  
  
"Both have records longer than my arm: burglary, larceny, auto theft, drug trafficking, armed robbery; kind of a potpourri of crime."  
  
"Yeah, so what? You ain't got shit on me today," the young black man challenged Dutch  
  
"DeShawn Roker and Q.T. were pretty good friends, that right?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"DeShawn's dead. We figure you had something to do with it or know who did. Why don't you help us out."  
  
"Why should I help you, white bread? You ain't never done nothin' for me."  
  
"I'm not arresting you for a series of grocery store robberies in which three people have been killed. I think that's a pretty big favor."  
  
"I ain't robbed no store. You got nothing on me."  
  
"Maybe I do. See, in the last robbery, there were three witnesses left alive. Isn't that funny? Three. But in the other robbery, not even one. Why do you think that is?"  
  
"How the hell do I know?" he said defensively.  
  
"Well, see Suge, I think you know, because I think DeShawn wasn't killed because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was killed because of what he was into with you. Or maybe because he wouldn't do what you, or Q.T. wanted to? Isn't that right? Isn't it right that DeShawn was trying to get out of the gang? That he didn't want to hang with you street punks anymore?"  
  
"So what? It's a free country. Don't mean we killed him."  
  
Dutch just nodded. "Maybe," he said again.  
  
Claudette was trying much of the same line in her interrogation with the second black youth.  
  
"Why didn't DeShawn Roker want to run with the Posse anymore, Q.T.?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Loyalty is everything on the street. Maybe you didn't like that DeShawn wanted out."  
  
"What'da you know lady?"  
  
"I know that someone killed DeShawn Roker and I'm going to find out who."  
  
*************************  
  
Danny was with Dean Coriz, a media analyst; that was a fancy title for someone who looked at videotape all day. He was reviewing the tape of the second robbery, the one that had been shot from the liquor store across the street from the market.  
  
"Well, the kid at the register seems not to have been real afraid of the robbers when they first came in," the dark haired man said.  
  
"Like maybe he knew them, or knew they were coming," Danny supplied.  
  
"Maybe. Then, they all go out of view, a little bit later, the three come back to the front. No owner."  
  
"He's probably already dead in the back."  
  
"Right. Now the three stand there a while, maybe arguing. The kid's back behind the register, pulls the gun, and the robber shoots him." He shrugged. "It looks to me like he was in on it, then things went bad or he wanted out."  
  
"Maybe he was mad that the owner got killed. No one was hurt at the first robbery."  
  
"Probable. Well, I'm done here. You'll get my report tomorrow."  
  
"Thanks," Danny said, standing. She had worked with this guy before on several occasions. He was kind of cute.  
  
On his way out, Dean turned back to Danny. "Say, would you like to grab dinner sometime, when we're not bumping into each other at work? I won't even ask you to watch a movie."  
  
Danny smiled. "Yeah, maybe. That'd be nice."  
  
"I'll call you."  
  
And after he left, Danny hoped he would.  
Captain Acevedra hung up the phone. He was not happy. The budget cuts the mayor was proposing just went through. There would be no pay raises for three divisions of the LAPD. His was one. This was going to cause trouble. There had already been talk of a "blue flu" if the raises didn't pass. This could be bad and he knew he'd better prepare for it.  
  
************************  
  
The next day, Captain Acevedra's fears were confirmed. Half the uniformed officers didn't show up to work. He called the Captains at the other two divisions that had been affected by the cuts and confirmed that they too were very short of officers. The paper was reporting a possible strike. Acevedra knew he would have to take drastic action.  
  
He went down into the bullpen, which was quieter than usual; he only saw Julien coming in for briefing.  
  
"Okay, people, can I have your attention?"  
  
All eyes went to him.  
  
"I'm sure you've heard by now about the uniformed officer's pay raises being cut here and in several other divisions. I'm ashamed to see that some of our officers are absent; because I hope that we all stand for more around here than just a paycheck. But we have a job to do, and we can't do it without enough bodies. I want every detective who doesn't have an open case in a uniform and in a patrol car on the street. That will include myself. We have to get out there to protect and serve. Lets get out there."  
  
A few grumbles went up from some of the detectives, but most went to the locker room to dig out blues. Most were hoping that they still fit into them.  
  
"That was a nice speech Captain," Dutch told him, happy that he had an open case with the grocery store robberies.  
  
"Speeches won't keep the neighborhood from self destructing. Do you have any leads in the Market Murders?"  
  
"Well, we're pursuing a few."  
  
"Let Claudette follow up on them. I need every extra body in a uniform. Go suit up."  
  
Dutch got a dismayed look on his face. He cursed himself for even talking to Acevedra. Maybe if the Captain hadn't noticed him.  
  
"You do have a uniform, right?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Then go dress out." The Captain walked off.  
  
Claudette had witnessed the incident. She tried not to smile. "I feel safer already."  
  
Dutch gave her a sour look as he turned and shuffled to the locker room.  
  
****************************  
It was late in the evening and the rain had been falling steadily all day. Stefanie had been involved in a large bust earlier and was staying late at her desk to finish up the paperwork. There had been a surge of "dirty" drugs hitting the street. Tainted pills and meth mixed with drain cleaner; it killed the user quick and painfully; faster than the slow death they were headed for by using to begin with. They'd made a good dent in the distributors today. But the main pushers had gotten away.  
  
"You gonna call it a day Knight?" one of the other cops called out as he was leaving.  
  
"Yeah, sooner or later. I just want to make sure all this stuff gets processed first thing in the morning."  
  
Stevie thought maybe it was because she was trying to make it up to the department, all the shit they were taking over Jackson; or maybe it was because she was tired of going home to an empty apartment and fighting the urge to kill the pain. But for whatever reason, for the past week, she'd spent more time at work than home. She wanted to see Shane. She wanted to talk about what had happened between them, see if it was worth pursuing. But it had been crazy here since she'd been back.  
  
There was still no word on Jackson. The common theory was that he'd left the country, but Stevie didn't believe it. She knew he'd come hunting her. One way or another. God, how she hated here anymore. She wanted to go home, her real home back in Georgia, more than anything. Except for the fact that she knew if she went home, left LA, she wouldn't see Shane, not even briefly. He wouldn't leave. This was his home now. She wished she could commit to it like he could, but it just wasn't going to happen. Coming as close to death as she had, had made her realize what was important in life. And this wasn't it. But Shane was. If he could just see that.  
  
Just as she finished and was ready to put away her files, her phone rang.  
*********************  
  
Jackson knew how to get Stefanie. He'd been partners with her long enough to at least know that. He knew she wanted this bust. He could have cared less if it was for the good of getting the tainted drugs off the street or to impress her new cop boyfriend. But Jackson knew she wanted it.  
  
The money he had left, he'd use to take her down. Some of it went to Q.T. Brown.  
  
"Make it look like an OD," he told the punk.  
  
Q. T knew just what to do.  
  
When Stefanie got the call from one of her CI's saying they knew where Q.T. Brown was, and that he was waiting on a big deal to go down with some Los Mag's, she moved on it. Q.T. was the main suspect in letting the "dirty" pills hit the street. She figured she could get in before any of the other gang members arrived, bust Brown and get out before any trouble started.  
  
Stupid maybe. But she needed this one. And she didn't have a partner anymore.  
PRESENT..  
Shane got to the Pelican Motel. The rain was still pouring when Vic let him in. He saw Stevie in the bed.  
  
"Shit! What happened?" he went to her.  
  
"I got a call from Del Vasquez, says she bought some junk from a Posse; apparently Od's and they toss her out the back. I found her like that."  
  
Shane shook his head. "No. Not after what she went through. I don't buy it."  
  
"Maybe you should start. She's a junkie Shane."  
  
"No!" Shane yelled, coming toward Vic. "I know her. This ain't her!"  
  
"Jesus Shane, open your eyes!"  
  
Shane gave Vic a sour look, and then went back to Stevie. He pulled down the blanket and looked at her arm. "OD'd my ass," he said. He discovered fresh tracks on her right arm. "Stevie didn't shoot. I don't care what anyone said happened; this wasn't an accident. She didn't do this."  
  
"How can you be so sure? You hadn't seen her in a long time."  
  
"Vic, I grew up with her! She hated needles. There's no way she'd shoot up. And she ain't left handed."  
  
Vic debated the situation in his head. Finally, he sighed.  
  
"Alright, so someone did this to her. Who has the most to gain?"  
  
"Jackson. He's the only loose end. He probably spread some cash to a hitter, got her down to the bar somehow and made it look like suicide."  
  
Vic nodded. It was the most plausible scenario. "So we wait till she comes out of it, gives us the story, then we move."  
  
Shane looked down at Stevie and felt so damn helpless. "I want that bastard Vic. I want him bad."  
  
Vic nodded. "We'll get him."  
  
************************  
It was morning before Stefanie came to. She felt like hell. She saw Shane, asleep in a chair next to the bed. She was in a motel. It figured, he'd be there. She sat up, her head reeling.  
  
Shane heard her moving around and opened his eyes, slowly trying to sit up straight without every muscle in his body screaming from the punishment of sleeping in the chair.  
  
"How do you feel?" he asked.  
  
"Like hammered rat shit. You?"  
  
He nodded in agreement. "What the hell happened?"  
  
"I got set up. We had a big busdt yesterday; some of the dealers got away. I got a call last night that one of the guys I was looking for was going to be at that bar. When I got there, he ran out back. I followed, someone grabbed me from behind, shoved a needle in my arm, and it was goodnight Irene. How'd you find me?"  
  
"It was Vic. One of his CI's saw you there. Someone who knew you'd bought before."  
  
Stevie shook her head. There was no way she was ever going to get by. There were too many street punks out there who knew she had been a user herself. Someone was going to nail her eventually. "it's never going to end, is it Shane?"  
  
He shrugged. "Keep clean."  
  
She laughed with the irony that hit her. "You know, if I hadn't been using so much shit myself, I'd be dead right now. Whoever shot me up probably used enough to kill someone who hadn't built up a tolerance."  
  
Shane knew she was probably right. The main pills she'd been using were morphine based. Heroin converted to morphine in the bloodstream. But that's why junkies had to use more and more: they built up a resistance and it took more to get high. Stevie had obviously been using long enough to get that same tolerance. Which had saved her life.  
  
"You feel like finding this asshole?"  
  
"No, but I'll do it anyway. You know Jackson was behind this."  
  
Shane nodded. "Let's go get Vic."  
  
*********************  
  
The "blue flu" continued for the second day. And for the second day, all the non-essential personnel had been dressed out for street work, including Captain Acevedra and Dutch.  
  
Acevedra was riding with Julien, since they had worked together before for Acevedra's yearly patrol.  
  
"So let me ask you, why didn't you join the rest of the officers on this protest?" Acevedra asked Julien while they patrolled the streets.  
  
The big black man shrugged. "I guess I'm still too new. I still believe that we're out here to make a difference, to change things. Not just for the paycheck, like you said yesterday."  
  
"Well, I'm glad someone feels that way."  
Vic picked up Shane and Stevie at the motel. They told him what had happened.  
  
"We better get this Jackson racked up before he causes any more problems. If he finds out about-" Shane almost revealed the problem of the stolen money.  
  
"About what?" Stevie asked.  
  
"About you still being alive," Vic put in. "Right now, he thinks you're rotting in that alley, unless he went back to check."  
  
She agreed.  
  
"Well, lets go round up Q.T. and get him to cough up Jackson."  
  
************************  
  
Vic, Shane and Stevie were headed into Q.T. Brown's territory when Vic got a call on his cell.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Hi it's me. I just wanted to make sure we're still on for dinner." It was Corrine.  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Cassidy's cooking. She wants to make us Thai food."  
  
"Yeah? Sounds good."  
  
"We're shopping now, then I'll pick up Matthew and Megan. So you're for sure going to be there?"  
  
"Yeah, of course."  
  
"Okay, cause she's really excited."  
  
Suddenly there was loud shouting in the background. Then  
  
"Oh my God!" from Corrine.  
  
"Corrine, what's happening?"  
  
"Vic! They've got guns!"  
  
"Who?! What's going on?"  
  
"It's a robbery!" she hissed over the phone. Vic could hear  
  
more shouting and screaming.  
  
"Get down!" he told her. "Where are you?"  
  
"The Thai Market on Greene and 78th Street," she whispered.  
  
"Shane, call in an armed robbery in progress at Greene and 78th, the Thai market," Vic commanded. Shane called in.  
  
"Stay down, try to hide!" Vic told her. "Don't hang up, just keep the line open. The police are on the way. We're on the way." He tossed the phone to Stevie in the back seat so he could concentrate on driving.  
  
"Keep the line open," he told her.  
Julien and Acevedra were just blocks away when the call came in.  
  
"That could be the gang Claudette and Dutch are after," Acevedra said, while hitting the lights and sirens. Julien called in their response.  
  
Shane called Lem and Ronnie to meet them with riot gear.  
  
"Get the shot gun out of the back," Vic told Stevie, who'd lost her gun and shield to the attacker the night before.  
  
"Is Corrine still on the phone?"  
  
"I think she put it on the floor. I heard one of the guys tell them to get down on the floor and stay there. Then, just noises." Stevie had put the cell phone on MUTE, so that only what was incoming could be heard, but if someone picked up Corrine's phone on the other end, they couldn't hear what was going on.  
  
When Vic pulled up, the market was being covered by only two patrol cars; that was all that were available. Julien and Acevedra and Dutch and one other uniformed officer. Ronnie and Lem had gotten there as well, and Lem had the back covered. Shane had told them about Corrine and Cassidy being inside.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to get their attention. Shane, you and Ronnie take that side door. Stevie, when I've got them distracted, take out that window," he pointed to the large floor to ceiling plate glass window on the far right. "Aim high."  
  
"Right. When they're distracted, we move."  
  
Acevedra intercepted. "We need to wait for the hostage negotiator," he told Vic.  
  
"My wife and kid are in there!" Vic yelled. "We have no backup! I'm not waiting."  
  
Acevedra knew Vic was right. He also knew how he'd feel if his family were in there. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll take out the window. You need more coverage in the back in case they try to run."  
  
"Fine. Stevie, get back there with Lem." She sprinted around the cars.  
  
Vic used binoculars to see inside. One of the robbers had already removed his mask in frustration. Vic saw that it was Q.T. Brown.  
  
"Lets move."  
  
Vic approached the storefront with his hands raised slightly at his sides.  
  
"Q.T., it's Mackey!" he yelled. "I just want t talk!"  
  
Brown, using a display for cover, pushed open the glass door a crack.  
  
"Nothin' to talk about Mackey! Tell your boys to back off or I'm gonna start shootin' in here!"  
  
"It can go down easy or it can go down hard! You let those hostages go and I can cut you a deal, right here right now!" Vic was sweating; he could feel the beads running down his face.  
  
"I don't buy it man! Now tell them to back off!"  
  
Vic waved a hand, like he was telling the officers to get back. This was the signal for Acevedra to take out the window. Vic hoped he didn't miss.  
  
The window shattered.  
  
Taken by surprise, Q.T. dived for cover, but Vic was quicker. Drawing his gun, dropping to a crouch and firing at Brown took milliseconds, but to Vic it seemed like slow motion.  
  
Brown was hit as Vic's bullets shattered the glass doors and he fell to the floor.  
  
The plate glass window shattered and Shane and Ronnie rammed through the side door. They had a bead on the gunman behind the counter. When the window burst into millions of pieces of flying glass, the would be robber turned, firing at the glass, thinking someone was coming through. But Shane and Ronnie came through the door instead. Shane popped off two quick shots and the still masked Sugar fell behind the L shaped counter.  
  
The third gunman turned when the window burst across the room. He had no desire to be loyal or to get killed. He didn't care about the five hostages cowering on the floor. He ran for the back storage room and the back door. The door burst open before he could make it. Lem and Stevie rushed in. The gunman let go a volley of fire from his automatic pistol. Lem and Stevie dived for cover behind pallets of merchandise with no time to return fire.  
  
The gunman headed for the open door, but Lem stopped him with the butt of the shotgun. He slammed it into the robber as he was trying to run by, hitting him in the side, knocking him down. Then, he hit him again in the back as he was going down. The automatic skidded across the floor. Lem fell on top of the face down thug and snapped on cuffs.  
Vic ran in, kicking away Q.T.s weapon from the downed felon's hand, though Q.T. was rolling around moaning from the non-fatal abdomen wound Vic had inflicted on him. Vic rolled him on his stomach and quick snapped on cuffs.  
  
"Clear!" he yelled.  
  
Shane and Ronnie cautiously peered over the counter. The robber Shane had hit lay on his back, arms splayed out, eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Shane vaulted the counter and kicked away the weapon, but this guy wasn't going anywhere.  
  
"Clear!" he yelled.  
  
"Clear!" Lem yelled from the back room.  
  
Vic hurried over to the hostages. Corrine was holding a crying Cassidy. He girl saw her father and opend her arms.  
  
Vic gathered her up.  
  
"Are you okay baby?" he asked.  
  
She nodded into his shoulder. He looked at Corrine, who still wore a terrified expression.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
She nodded. "I think so." She gestured to the Thai store owner. He'd been hit in the head by one of the thugs. Corrine had bandaged his wounds to stop the bleeding as best she could with some paper towels. "He's going to need an ambulance."  
  
"Vic!" Lem shouted from the back. "We need some paramedics back here!"  
  
Shane rushed to the back of the store. Stefanie was on the floor. Lem was applying pressure to a wound bleeding profusely from her left shoulder. She was semi conscious.  
  
Shane picked her up. "I got her." He carried her out the front to waiting paramedics.  
  
Two more ambulances arrived, one for the cuffed Q.T Brown, who got to ride with in the ambulance with Julien, and one for the storeowner.  
  
Vic took a shaken Corrine and Cassidy home.  
Shane waited outside the ER, smoking, for word on Stevie. Lem and Ronnie both showed up some time later.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
Shane shrugged. "I don't know yet."  
  
About then, a doctor in hospital green scrubs came out of the ER doors. He saw the three badges.  
  
"You're waiting for word on the other police officer?"  
  
"Yeah, Stefanie Knight," Shane affirmed. "How is she?"  
  
"She just got taken up to surgery. She was stabilized in the ER. If you want to go up to the fourth floor waiting area, check in with the nurse and they'll let you know when she's out of surgery."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The group moved up to the fourth floor. Another long hour of waiting and finally a nurse came to get Shane.  
  
"Ms Knight is being moved into a room now. They took out the bullet with no problems. She's in stable condition."  
  
"Can I see her?" Shane asked, rubbing his sweating palms on his jeans.  
  
"In a few minutes. She'll be in 4117."  
  
Shane turned to his partners. "Hey, you guys go on home. I'll probably be here all night."  
  
"You sure man?" Ronnie asked.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Lem clapped his friend on the back, as did Ronnie.  
  
"If you need anything-" Lem left it at that.  
  
Shane nodded.  
  
Vic called a few minutes later.  
  
"Hey, how's Stefanie?"  
  
"She's outta surgery. Stable."  
  
"You need me down there?"  
  
"Nah, thanks Vic. Your kid okay?"  
  
"A little shaken, but they'll be fine. Listen, call if you need anything, okay?"  
  
"Okay, thanks man." Shane was grateful for good partners and friends.  
Shane waited for Stevie to wake up. He dozed in an even more uncomfortable chair than the one at the motel. Damn he was tired of worrying about her. He hoped like hell this time she'd go home.  
  
He remembered the first time she'd been shot, four years ago. She'd been hit in the back. She almost didn't make it. Her mother had flown in. Shane had felt the guilt eating him up, even though she'd been on the force three years already. When she finally did begin to recover, he'd about begged her to go back with her mom. But Stevie had always been stubborn.  
  
Now, all this. Shane ran a hand over her forehead and her blond hair.  
  
Stevie slowly opened her eyes.  
  
"Hey you," he greeted her.  
  
"Hey," she managed.  
  
"I sure am getting tired of seeing you all banged up."  
  
She picked up the hand that wasn't in a sling. Shane took it.  
  
"Get some rest," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere."  
*****************  
Vic did come by the next day. Stevie was awake. She and Shane were playing cards.  
  
"Hey slugger," Vic greeted her. "Maybe we should put her on the Team."  
  
"Nah, Stevie's going home, aren't you babe?"  
  
She gave a little smile. "Well, I'm almost talked into it. But you could make me an offer Vic."  
  
Vic grinned. "Hey, I do have some good news. Q.T., once they dug the bullet out of him, sang like a bird. Told us how Jackson paid him to kill you. Also told us where to find Jackson."  
  
"You got him?" Stevie asked.  
  
"No. Someone got to him before we did. Could have been Marcos. Stabbed him fourteen times. He was cold and stiff by the time we found him."  
  
"Well, I guess that was bound to happen."  
  
Shane shrugged. "You play you gotta pay."  
  
"Anyway, you won't have to worry about him anymore. Well, kids, some of us have to work for a living."  
  
********************  
  
The "blue flu" had come to an end. The council had done some bargaining and reached a resolution about another way to cinch up the budget without cutting police officer's raises.  
  
Danny was back on the street with Julien.  
  
"How was it with Acevedra?" she asked.  
  
"Well, I'm getting used to him," Julien said, but then  
  
smiled. "But he's not you."  
Claudette too had her partner back. She was happy to close the case on the Market Murders. Dutch was just happy to be back in his civvies.  
  
"Oh, I don't know Dutch," Claudette told him. "I think you  
  
looked kind of handsome in blues."  
  
"Really? Handsome?" He thought about it for a minute. "Yeah, well I guess maybe a little."  
  
"Don't let it go to your head, son." 


End file.
